Tainted
by oovwee
Summary: Oneshot. Wrote in a depressive fit. Eh. They happen. Rocketshipping implied, but mostly an angsty tale of why Jessie is so sexually confused around James.


Jessie's eyes filled with tears as she put down the phone. "I just don't understand," she choked to herself in half shock. James had always been so willing to be there for her, but now he wanted nothing to do with her.

She knew it was partially her fault. She had driven him to it. She neglected him purposely when she needed him most, something that drove him crazy. The times she could never call him was when she desperately wanted his arms around her. Still having not moved from the spot she had been sitting, she began to sob. The sobs were not of just recent events, the sobs had come from deeper, representing everything she had hidden from everyone for so long. She wanted desperately to explain her feelings to others, but she was constantly afraid of the poor mental connotations people would associate with her. Especially James.

She couldn't blame _him_ either. He was only acting as he was biologically programmed to. She sighed to herself at the memory. James was not the only man she had loved in her still short lifetime. They had been a whirlwind teen romance, thinking they knew everything of the world. Everything moved so fast, but it had seemed alright to Jessie. She had reservations about the physicality of their relationship, but he was always quick to assure her that it was perfectly normal and they were doing nothing more than their peers had already done. She reluctantly agreed because she saw his eagerness and happiness. It was true that her body enjoyed many of their activities—it was a natural response to stimulation. Still inside, Jessie was in turmoil. She was still not comfortable with many of their activities, but didn't dare speak up due to fear of losing the man she loved. She still had hope in the fact that they had both said they didn't desire sex until marriage. To him, it had been true when he said it, she assumed, but as their relationship wore on, his opinion changed.

They hadn't been going out a year when he first suggested the thought. She denied quietly and passed it off as his raging hormones. It worried her when he brought it up the next time they were alone together, but still gave it little thought. When he had begun to use his hands to explore the area that lie beneath her panties, it caused her pain as he thrust his fingers into her body, but she bit her lip and tried to bear it. She knew the action pleased him by the deep grunts he produced, and she hoped that would be enough to satisfy his primitive appetite.

Jessie tried to snap out of the memories with a shudder, but couldn't. The next image made her weep harder, as he was over her—holding her down as he undressed her. He had much over her in the way of girth, and he had used it completely to his advantage. The whole time, he had assured her that it was perfectly natural and she would enjoy it. Her body shook in pain at the time, which he had taken as something else and continued, only to cause Jessie more turmoil. The only way she had made him stop was by pretending to pass out. He had little care for her, but stopped his actions. She feigned sleep and wept quietly facing the wall.

She had not broken up with him then. She still considered that the worst decision of her life thus far, but she couldn't deny the truth. She had allowed him to re-enact the scene twice more, each time she was sure she could stop. She had loved him so much that she was sure it would be alright.

There was one thing that had caused Jessie to break it off. After having a late period, the fear and wondering of what could have been scared her into making her decision. She needed to cut things off. She sobbed as she had told him, as she still loved him so much it physically hurt her, but she knew it had to be done.

Jessie sat motionless on the couch still, allowing the tears to run freely down her face and run her mascara. She felt hollow, less than human. For over half a year, she had not told anyone, but her depression and moody temper dictated her actions. She had ruined almost all her friendships, except with James. James may not have understood what had happened, but would be there patiently, even when she pushed him away.

When she did tell James of her past, she felt relief and dread at the same time. James was very understanding of her feelings, but it made her despise the situation even more. She would never be the woman he had originally thought she was, and it bothered her daily. She was tainted.

The hardest part was a battle of her mind and her body. Even though her mind was still scarred and fearful of what had happened to her before, her body knew of the primal pleasures and often craved them, creating much more turmoil and confusion within the once positive female. Once she and James began to pursue a relationship, it only intensified the feelings. One side of her shuddered at his touch while the other wanted to command him to take her then and there.

And that's what had destroyed it. She dealt with the conflict by pushing it out of her mind, and therefore pushing him away. She knew all along this would be the end--him finding someone more willing and more open, but it didn't take away the pain. She had had too much baggage for him. She didn't deserve him, not after what she had allowed the one before to accomplish. James deserved someone sweet and innocent with her whole life ahead of her and no regrets behind her. And as horrible as it was, Jessie still loved the one that had caused her this emotional despair. She knew she would love him until her dying day.

She quietly went to the kitchen and pulled out a small knife. She returned to the couch and sat it on the coffee table, staring at the stainless steel as it caught the light from the lamp above. She contemplated all the things she could do with it, casually picking it up and feeling with her thumb the sharp edge. She could see the image in her head, the blood flowing from her body. The thought was strangely comforting, but she returned the knife to the table and looked at it more. This was not the first time she had contemplated the attraction of the blade, but she found it harder to resist each time. She stared at it a bit longer, still comforted by the mental image of the crimson fluid flowing from her pale body. Knowing she was stronger than temptation, however, she picked the knife back up and returned it to the kitchen, proud of her ability to resist but ashamed at her fear of completing the action all at the same time. She stood still after returning the knife to the drawer, knowing the immediate threat was over, but feared what the coming days would bring.


End file.
